The Pact
by TeaSea
Summary: In an alternative universe somewhere around series 6, Lady Mary has married unwisely (Henry Talbot does not exist here). Having caught Mr Barrow, soon to be butler, in a compromising position, she must decide on his fate - can they save each other? *This is my version of Thomas finding happiness. A one shot at the moment, but I have ideas on further scenes which I may indulge in*


"Mr Barrow! You can't come in here!"

Anna's exclamation was loud even through the fastened door. Lady Mary's eyes closed in weary frustration. This conversation was long overdue, it was cruel to keep putting him off. But her own problems had taken over the day, and when she re-entered the house her focus had selfishly narrowed to the bath she was about to step into.

"Mr Barrow, no!"

A chair scraped in the adjoining bedroom and shadows shifted together.

"It's OK Anna," she called out, steeling herself. "It's OK. I promised we'd talk."

"But... now, m'lady?" Anna's incredulity was plain and justified. Lady Mary gripped the side of the bathtub she was sitting on, the weight of the day too heavy for her legs.

"Yes, now."

Wishing only for solitude she hauled herself to her feet and slipped off her robe. The water was as hot as she'd ordered, and she sank gratefully into the fragrant liquid. Anna entered the bathroom as she dipped down, chin rippling the surface.

"M'lady, Mr Barrow is in an awful state. I should send him away to calm down." The worry was etched in every pore of Anna's face as she placed a bowl and cloth on the table. A medicinal odour joined the floral bath scent. Anna's hands wrung together, and Mr Barrow's heavy pacing next door was as loud as the dressing gong.

"Let him in Anna, and go and fetch my blue dress from the laundry."

"But m'lady..." Anna could not have been more shocked if she'd slapped her. An avalanche of reasons why this was a terrible idea bottlenecked in her throat, tripping her tongue and preventing any further coherent sounds. The last whisker of Lady Mary's patience snapped.

"Oh Anna, for goodness sake. We all know what he is; what does it matter? You can see what's happened to me today, even if you don't know the story. I owe Barrow a conversation, and I want it done now, so I can go to sleep and start again tomorrow." She paused and then sighed deeply through her nose at Anna's distraught confusion.

"Please Anna." Gentler now. "Please let him in and go downstairs for 10 minutes. I know what I'm doing."

Anna's lips twitched, but she didn't speak. Her eyes moved to the floor, pausing on the way to note the cloudy bathwater that was almost white, and perhaps take some comfort from this. Jerkily, her better judgement fighting her obedience, she returned to the door and opened it. Not able to say the words, a gesture of her arm sent Mr Barrow to their mistress.

His movements were as unnatural as Anna's. Usually well turned out and cool, a glaze of nervous sweat was evident across his brow. His eyes were wide and without context one would think he faced judgement day itself. Fists clenched and uncaring of their surroundings, he started quickly.

"My lady, you said we would talk about it today. I must know what you intend to do about what you saw." On the last word his eyes met hers, and the unexpected froze him, prepared speech abandoned. "What happened?"

It was all she could do to return his gaze, swallowing hard and shaking her head in lieu of talking. His shocked gaze fell on the bowl Anna had carried in, and medical training kicked in. He grabbed the cloth, dipped it in the liquid and dropped to his knees by the bath, slightly clumsily dabbing at the wound on Lady Mary's cheekbone. He concentrated on the task of cleaning the dried blood and tending the open cut, while she watched him intently. Job done and explanations not forthcoming, he sat back on his heels.

"Please, m'lady. I don't know what has happened to you today, and if I can help I will, but I need to know where I stand. My life is on hold and I'm waiting for you to tell me how badly I've messed this up. If I'm sacked, or if I'm going to prison."

The tears in his eyes made her heart ache, but this was too important to rush. She scrapped the last of today's strength together for the chore, forcing haughty confidence into her tone.

"I'm sorry I didn't speak to you this morning Barrow. I needed to make some enquiries first, and I was on my way back when – well, when I was distracted. I've got some questions for you, and I need you to answer them honestly." She twisted slightly towards him and he leant back instinctively, constantly present fear rising. He nodded his powerless agreement.

"First, I have an admission." The water was doing its job, the tension in her joints was beginning to ease. She knew it was a temporary fix, that returning to her crumbling life would seize her again, but for now she could concentrate on the issue at hand. Her instinct was telling her this could be one of the most important conversations of her life, and her instincts were rarely wrong.

"I watched you for a few seconds. I didn't mean to, but when I turned the corner and saw the two of you together, it took my breath away."

His quizzical expression turned to resignation, used to generating repulsion, but she shook her head.

"I saw your passion. I saw you being tender. It was only a few seconds, but as you kissed him… I thought I saw love. It took me back to how Matthew and I were with each other." She paused, observing him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes – his guard, as it always had to be, was up.

"Do you love him?" She dared him to tell the truth. Waited to see if he would bare his soul.

"Yes." The quiver in his voice was only just perceptible, and he made eye contact determinedly. "Yes, I love him, and he loves me. I know you probably don't believe that's possible, or right, but it's how I am, how we are, and I can't change it." The courage required for this open admission left him breathless, and he took compensating deep inhales.

"How long have you been with us, Barrow?" Her change of tack surprised and disappointed him, words that cost him so much to say remaining unacknowledged. "You started as a hall boy didn't you?"

"Yes m'lady," he answered softly. "16 years, if you count the war."

"Which I do," she agreed. "16 years. And in that time you've seen other staff fall in love and get married. Moving into a cottage together and keep working. Growing up, moving to the next stage in life."

His head bowed, and he spoke through gritted teeth. "Yes, m'lady." There was nothing more to add.

"That seems terribly unfair. You've worked hard, devoted yourself to this house and to your country, and because you haven't had the time to find a wife you're still sleeping in the attic."

His frown deepened as he tried to guess where she was going.

"So," she continued, turning back to watch the ceiling, "today I went to see the Henderson cottage. It's been empty since Henderson senior passed away, and it won't take much to bring it up to scratch. It's by the orchard, do you know it?"

He was fully back on his heels now, shoulders slumped and understanding crushing him.

"Yes, m'lady, I know it," he whispered. "On the other side of the orchard. Nearly 2 miles away. So that's my punishment."

"What?" She lifted her head to look at him, as he stared at the floor.

"You send me away without sacking me. You give me this, this perk" – he spat the word bitterly – "that keeps me away from the house, away from the staff, alone and isolated. Like always."

The anger in his eyes shocked her, the depth of his pain unimagined, and briefly she understood Anna's reluctance to leave. She rallied, as she always must.

"You don't know it as well as you think then," she retorted. "The Henderson cottage has two bedrooms."

The air in the room stilled.

"Two?" he asked, without moving, almost without breathing.

"And you're right of course," she continued, taking a slightly perverse pleasure in extending the moment. "It's a mile and a half if you cut through. A bit of a trek." A sideways flick of the eyes to the prone figure. "So it is a long away to live, by yourself. Luckily, with 2 bedrooms, you could choose someone to live with you. A friend." She turned fully this time, hooking her arm over the edge of the bath and facing him. "Someone from the house of course. A senior member of staff, preferably. Someone like –"

"Stuart." His voice was hushed, and he looked up through his eyebrows for confirmation.

"Yes. Stuart would be ideal I think."

His movement startled her, he leant forward and hauled himself towards her.

"Do you mean it m'lady?" He grasped the edge of the bath, face level with hers. The unprecedented intimacy of their situation hit her as hard as the back of her husband's hand only hours ago.

"Yes." She went all in, breaking any last semblance of protocol by placing a firm hand on the back of his neck, fingers in his hair, and pressing her forehead to his. Her words were spoken softly, fiercely, and quickly. "Yes, I mean it. It's your cottage, you must make that clear to him, and both beds must be slept in for the look of the thing because the maids will clean for you, but it gives you what you need. You'll leave here after dinner, walk there together, and close the door. What happens after that is no one's business but yours and his."

"Why?" he asked, struggling to comprehend the enormity of her offer. "Why would you do that?"

"Because the time is coming when you will be butler here, and that means you and I are going to be together for a long time. And, really, because I want to believe that love is possible, everywhere. Since Matthew died I haven't had much luck in that department." She gestured at her own face helplessly, withdrawing her hand and laying back again.

He rose as she released him, turning to the window to give them both a moment to control their emotions, rather than to enjoy the view.

"I have always been loyal to this house my Lady," he pronounced his words carefully, talking to the distant trees. "Always. But this ties me to you, I think you know that. You are offering me everything I ever wanted, everything I thought was impossible. To live with someone I love? To get up and have breakfast with him, to touch him or even kiss him across a pot of tea" – he paused, and his groan was raw – "that's something I've envied all my life. So when I accept, I become indebted to you, forever. I'll be more than your butler; I'll be your man."

His eloquence and understanding of the situation were a pleasant surprise, written across her face.

"The thing is Barrow, I'm in trouble here. Keeping the house running is only half my battle, now I've stuck myself with him. I know it's my fault, my mistake, but I will pay for it, forever. And I need my allies. I need you on my side."

He turned to her, hands behind his back and chest proud in a butler's stance.

"Five minutes ago I was kneeling on the tiles, convinced my life was over. Now you offer me an impossible dream. I am on your side, m'lady. Always."

"Good," she nodded. "One of us will be at the others deathbed, Thomas Barrow, and until then we are loyal to each other."

"You have my word."

"And you have mine."

They paused together, silently pondering the enormity of their treaty.

"Now," Lady Mary announced, her normal voice loud after the hushed tones of pact making. "I think you'd better go and tell Stuart the news. The cottage will be ready for you on Friday."

Mr Barrow turned to the door.

"He won't believe me," he smiled, barely able to believe it himself. "He'll tell me I'm mad, or that it's a trick." A flicker of worry crossed his expression.

"No trick," she assured him. "No trick at all. Look after yourself, Barrow."

"You too m'lady. You're a strong person, you can come through this, if it's not impertinent of me to say so."

"Well, the rules don't seem to apply right now," she replied. "So thank you."

He opened the bathroom door as Anna, her timing as impeccable as ever, entered the bedroom.

"Thank you, m'lady," he whispered, as he left.


End file.
